


Loving Husband, Caring Father

by adamcansuckme



Category: Hiddlestoner, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Dad Tom Hiddleston, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 05:57:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16867405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamcansuckme/pseuds/adamcansuckme
Summary: Being a new mom is no picnic, but at least you have the sweetest husband to comfort you when you’re overwhelmed.





	Loving Husband, Caring Father

“Come on, honey, just sleep, pleeEeEeeease…” You whimpered and begged, cradling your strident baby girl in your arms and trying all you could to make her stop crying and fall asleep. “Please, Bobby, you need to sleep. Mommy needs to sleep. The  _neighbors_ need to sleep.”

All it did was rip from her lungs a higher and piercing cry. You moaned and felt the tears on the rims of your eyes.

“Oh God, Bobby, pleease…” You threw your head back and took a deep breath. You had fed, changed and bathed your daughter, dabbed a rag soaked in warm chamomile tea on her gums - the doctor had said she was about to start teething - and massaged her tummy in case it was gas or colic, but nothing seemed to make her stop crying.

Suddenly she gasped and all breathing ceased.  _Oh God, not again._ She often cried with so much vigor that she’d choke and turn red as a lobster. You pulled her up to rest her against your chest and swayed your body until she calmed down - which, in that state, meant back to ear-splitting cries. You bit your lips, resting your back against the nursery wall, and felt the hot tears run down your cheeks. You had lent your car to your sister and Tom wouldn’t be home for another hour.  _I’ll take a taxi. She needs to see a doctor. Oh God, my baby girl… Please, don’t let it be anything serious…_

“Darling?” His voice echoed between Bobby’s cries and it filled you with hope.

You pushed yourself from the teddy-bear blue and brown wallpaper covered wall and rushed to the door. Before you could make it to the downstairs hall, you saw Thomas at the bottom of the stairs, sweatpants and hoodie, holding a bag to his shoulder and back from rehearsal at the theatre. His eyes widened when he saw your figure, probably a disheveled tired mess, you imagined.

“Oh my-” In three quick long strides, he jumped up the stairs skipping steps with his long legs and dropped his bag filled with scripts and whatnots. It rolled down to the foyer as he reached you, not hesitating in wrapping his hands around the little bundle of screams in your arms. “Here, give her to me.”

“Tom, it’s no use.” You sighed heavily as he started cradling Bobby and moving around you, entering the nursery. “We should take her to Dr. Braden.”

“Is she fed?” He tried putting her down in the crib, but she wouldn’t budge. You followed, running your fingers through your hair as the shrieking cry went on.

“Yes.” You rolled your eyes.

“Diaper’s clean?”

“Unless she took a shit in the last ten minutes…”

“What about warm bath?”

“Tom…”

“I know, I know, just checking…”

Bobby let out a higher, deafening cry and it made you sob and cry along, more tears running down your face.

“Hey, hey, hey… No…” You felt his arms pulling you closer to his chest. “Shush… Don’t cry… I know you’ve done all you could.” You let yourself sink in his arms, little Bobby crying her lungs out making it impossible to actually relax. After a moment trying to focus on his embrace and failing miserably - you wanted to reach out and grab her again - Tom cooed. 

“Darling?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I know…” You sunk your nose on his chest.

“But you seriously need to shower.”

“Ugh. Really? Is it that bad?”

“I think there’s dry vomit on your hair.”

“Oh, God, she really _is_ sick. We gotta take her-”

“ _We_ are not taking her anywhere.” He reached down and picked up Bobby, trying to calm her down again. “ _You_ are going to get into a hot bath and relax…”

“There’s no way I’m-”

“… and  _I’m_ going to call Dr. Braden and ask her to come over for a house call.”

“But-”

“No buts. Now go and dip yourself in that bath before I have to drag you there myself.”

“Hmph.” You looked at him from under your lashes, slightly annoyed but not being able to hide a tiny smile curling your lips. You had the sweetest husband. “Fine.”

Caressing Bobby’s soft tufts of hair one last time, you turned to head to the bathroom in your suite and left Tom picking up his phone from his sweatpants pocket. When you stopped in front of the small mirror on the wall, you saw under the harsh lights of the bathroom that Tom was right to force you to bathe and relax. You had dry vomit on the ends of your short blond hair, black circles under your eyes - which were sinking into the sockets - and you seriously needed to pluck your eyebrows. Not to mention of course, the red blotches on your skin from stress and crying and the tracks of dry tears. Your entire body hurt, every muscle tense and sore - your arms hurt like you had carried a horse down the street. Deciding to wash off the vomit in the sink and dip yourself in a hot, steaming, bubbly, scented bath, you ran the hot water on the tub. You looked down to your hands and realized your nails needed urgent manicure.

It’s not that being a mother was stopping you from taking care of yourself - Tom was doing his best to be at home most of the time and be the wonderful dad he was, but it just happened that you spent every second of your day worrying about little Bobby. Was she sleeping? Was she fed? When should you feed her next? Did she need a diaper change or was it just a fart? What’s this little red spot on her arm? Did a bug bite her? What bug? Was it measles? You moaned and sat on the edge of the tub, resting your face in your hands. Tom had mentioned getting a live-in nanny and you thought it wasn’t necessary. Bobby was your first child, you had no others to look after, it would be easy, right? Nope. In a few weeks you had to go back to work and maybe a nanny would be a nice option. Plus it would help you tone down on the slight paranoia you had been developing.

After rubbing off the nasty puke from your hair and letting it run down the sink, you let yourself submerge under the hot water in the tub. It burned for a moment, but soon it was incredibly relaxing and the scented bath salts made you rest your head on the edge and close your eyes to enjoy this rare moment.

 _“Ugh, Bobby!”_ Tom’s muffled voice reached your ears and you sat up like a dog smelling trouble.  _“That’s disgusting!”_

“Tom!!! What happened?!?” You were about to push yourself out of the tub and run to the nursery naked and dripping, but forced yourself to hold on a little.

_“Nothing. Well… I mean, she’s definitely sick. She just took a massive gooey stinky dump…”_

“Did you call Dr. Braden?!” Your hands clutched for dear life on the white ceramic edges.

_“Yes, she’ll be here in no time.”_

“Can you give her a bath?”

_“I’m already getting it started.”_

For a second you simply heard Bobby’s muffled cries and Tom going about the nursery, drawing a warm bath for the baby.

“Tom?” You asked, insecure.

_“Yes, sweetheart?”_

“You got it, right?”

You heard him chuckle.

_“Yeah, I got it. Just relax and take your bath. We’re good over here.”_

Even with his reassuring tone, it was hard for you to just relax. You tried dipping yourself in the hot water, rest your head against the padded edge of the bathtub and breathe in the scented steam that filled the air, but your mind rushed with worried thoughts about your daughter. 

So, to force yourself to unwind you reminded yourself you were not alone. You had your mother, your sister, and most of all, you had Tom. Yes, sometimes he wouldn’t be there because of work, but he always tried his best to be home as soon as possible. He knew this was a lot of pressure on you, so whenever he was home, he was the best father ever. Caring, playful and dedicated. Getting up at night so you could sleep, watching her so you could take a shower and taking her to the doctor so you could have some “me” time. Once your mother tried to praise him for  _“helping you”_ , as she called it, and with a sweet smile but a firm tone, he simply answered  _“I’m just doing my job as the father. It’s my pleasure to share the responsibility with your daughter.”_ Indeed, he loved taking care of little Bobby and he loved taking care of you. 

Thinking about the wonderful husband you had and how much of an amazing father he was to your daughter, you fell asleep in the bathtub, only waking up to Tom touching your shoulder to tell you that Dr. Braden had just left and Bobby was finally sound asleep. He helped you out of the bath while telling you everything the doctor had done, said and prescribed. He brought you clean warm jammies and fluffy socks, and while you sneaked into Bobby’s room for a peek at your little angel, Tom went downstairs to prepare a cup of tea for both of you. As you watched your baby girl stir in her sleep, you smiled and felt like the luckiest woman in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> In my defense I wrote this fic before he got the dog


End file.
